


Defending The End Trail

by Sorren



Category: Marvel 1872, Marvel Secret Wars Battleworlds
Genre: Daredevil mention, I refuse to believe Steve Rogers went down that easy, Old West, Spoilers, There was no third or fourth issue, corruption in the town, war council, what do you speak of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-07 06:32:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10354245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorren/pseuds/Sorren
Summary: Because while 1872 was absolutely my jam, and nobody can tell me otherwise... dammit Steve!





	

You’re stupid if you think Tony Stark ever stopped inventing. Did he run away after the war? Hell yes. He settled in the rowdiest and most ridiculous one-horse town he could find. Made himself right at home, he did. Nobody asked what he was doing there and he never answered when they tried. Timely had far too many strange characters of their own to bother with the washed up weapon-smith that no one had seen in three years. He would know. He’s met some of them before.

Fuck you if you think he ever made anything close to another revolver. Fuck you, your family, and the horse you rode in on. Because he didn’t. It took him a year in Timely before he could even think about the scene without throwing up wherever he was, and by then he’d had everyone fooled well enough that they didn’t question it. Who would? He was drunk.

God-Doom should chop you into tiny bits and feed you to his demon dogs if you thought Tony Stark didn’t know how to use every single weapon in his arsenal, half of them hand-crafted by the man himself. There were three people who dared to go to his house when the chimney smoked for too long or the echoing gunshots woke some of the townsfolk. The deputy would always leave first, but his wife and Sheriff Rogers would stay well into the evening, and if Rogers stuck around longer than most, no one breathed a word of it.

You’ve lost your wits if you believe anything Wilson Fisk and his cronies spout, but Steve’s had enough. Enough of the corruption and lies, of trying to standup for what was right. There were one too many people dying of unnatural causes around here, and he’d had enough of not having answers. Letting Red Wolf go was the last straw and, well, the powder keg went sky high.

People will spit on your grave if you ever say that Tony Stark didn’t save Sheriff Rogers’ life. Whatever strange cloth Rogers was wearing under his vest, it stopped bullets. Even if the sheriff flew backwards and jerked around. Was he bleeding? Yes. But his hand twitched as the pigs came to feast, and while Tony snarled and took on Fisk’s men, the citizens of Timely quietly fished Rogers out of the trough. Dead or not, he deserved proper honors.

You’re blinder than the old Daredevil of Hell’s Kitchen if you didn’t see the look of pure agony on Stark’s face. Bottle cast aside, he raised his hand and fired. Click-Boom. Click-Boom. Click-Boom. He wasn’t the only one to shoot at Fisk’s men, but he sure was the last thing they saw.

No one would blame you if you gaped openly at the sight of Natasha Barnes knocking heads around a few days later. She’s a sight to behold, and some say her husband trained her in the dead of night, between the gunshots and the fall of Stark’s hammer. Either way, she gets her job done.

You would be played for a fool if you ever asked Sheriff Rogers how he survived. Tony Stark would laugh and clap you on the back. Say it was a miracle, of course, now have another drink, Peter. The knowing gleam in his eyes and the amused look on Rogers’ face made you shelve it aside, for more sober times. 

* * *

Late one night, you’re on the roof staring at the stars. The muted voices are familiar, and you dare not to listen in. You do anyway.

“Why can’t you let this go?” Missus Barnes demanded.

“Because, darling,” Stark’s smooth drawl was easy on anyone’s ears, super hearing or not. “I’m an inventor. We tend to invent.”

“She’s right, Tony. This is getting out of hand.” Banner, of all people. “What makes you think Fisk will so hell-bent on coming after Timely?”

“I know a sore loser when I see one, and trust me, they don’t go down easy.” Stark muttered darkly. A shifting of fabric told him that someone flinched, and the unusually quiet voice confirmed who it was.

“That they don’t.” Missus Barnes seemed rather sure of both statements. “But you’ve done enough, Anthony. Surely you can rest easier?”

Something shattered against a wall.

“It wasn’t enough!” Stark roared. “But it will be.” He insisted firmly.

Blood pumped quickly through their bodies and the scent of fear tinged the air around them.

_ They’re preparing for war… _

The newsboy crept down from his roof and back into his room, feigning sleep when his aunt came to check on him.

_ Maybe they could use a few extra hands _ .   


End file.
